


Blood-Soaked Ground.

by lifetheuniverseandeverything42



Series: Attack of the plot bunny! [1]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Am I Really Writing New MASH Fics in 2020?, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce Whump, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Loves Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Korean War, Medical Examination, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Mental Health Issues, Out of Character, POV Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Period Typical Attitudes, Radar - slightly, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifetheuniverseandeverything42/pseuds/lifetheuniverseandeverything42
Summary: When Hawkeye encounters a shocking new coping method in dealing with the war and life/death generally can he be made to understand?
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt & Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, B. J. Hunnicutt & Original Female Character(s), Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce & Everyone, Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce & Original Character(s), Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce & Original Female Character(s), Radar O'Reilly & Everyone, Radar O'Reilly & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Attack of the plot bunny! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776028
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> M*A*S*H aired on CBS from 1972 to 1983 (during which - for America - the Vietnam War was occurring until 1975) yet it portrayed the events (however characteristically fictional) of around two decades earlier: the Korean War of 1950-1953.
> 
> This fanfiction, though written as if within the show and therefore the time period of the fifties, addresses issues that were not even considered to exist throughout the show's era (either in terms of setting or production) as self-harm in the form of cutting only really came about in the 1980s, in fact psychoanalysts in the 1930s saw self-harm as evidence of universal drives, which theoretically 'explained' not only self-injury but war and violence. While the ‘genuinely demographically dominant, teenage White female’ of self-harmers only emerged among American psychiatric inpatient units following a path‐breaking clinical study in 1960 and an orthodox sociological analysis in 1964 brought to light an ‘adolescent scarification crisis’; the characters in this fanfiction are not teenagers yet self-harm is realistically viewed as being a problem affecting predominantly young people (i.e. late teenagers to c.30 years old) and the character in this work who self-harms does fit into this category. Concern about this kind of psychiatric inpatient behaviour was given a large boost in visibility through several studies in the late 1960s and early 1970s in both Britain and the United States. These formed the roots of the current view of self-harm as self‐cutting and were solidified through Favazza's influential book Bodies under Seige (1987). I do not intend to further these archaic stereotypes which more than 40 years later are only just beginning to have public recognition. Although prior to 1980 the few cases of self-injury behaviour (typically in the form of overdosing) were perceived to be a cry for help, it was only after the 80s when the behaviour (predominantly self‐cutting or self‐burning) was more often seen as a method to regulate intolerable tension, or feelings of emotional numbness. 
> 
> I do not suggest that any element of this fanfiction is presumed to be true nor realistic, but as a past-self-harmer it is my personal view that in the conditions portrayed in the TV show M*A*S*H it would be surprising to me that amongst all the other self-destructive, harmful and near-suicidal behaviour shown there might not be any more modern forms of self-harm. This is my take on if that circumstance had existed and the characters various reactions to it.

**Hawkeye thought he knew people.**

**He thought he knew medicine.**

**He thought he knew this war; how bad it was.**

**He didn't think anything could shock, scare or hurt him at this point.**

**Trapper leaving, Henry dying.**

**Nothing.**

**His job was to patch up those carcasses that got wheeled in front of him on the bloody assembly-line.**

**He did his job, and he did it well.**

**But he thought that there was nothing left in this bloody war that could surprise him.**

**He was very _very_ wrong.**


	2. Chapter 2

It was deep in a _long_ OR session.

They were up to their necks in wounded and the heat was beyond intense.

They were all stripped as much as possible.

Water was kept in steady flow as dehydration became a real issue.

Yet as one surgeon gazed glazed-eyed around the bustling room he saw something that made him stop for a moment.

His pause alerted his nurse who quickly uttered his name: "Hawkeye."

The spell was broken, and he resumed.

The thought brushed away and forgotten - his priority on the life ebbing away in front of him.

Much _much_ later when the sky was finally dark.

The temperature had settled a little but was still chokingly high.

BJ and Hawkeye strolled across the compound to the Swamp, leisurely in their valid exhaustion.

Hawkeye had just slumped onto his cot when he remembered the sight that had stopped him dead so many hours earlier.

Once again, he froze with a puzzled frown and slowly looked round at the half-awake BJ.

Droopy-eyed, BJ regarded his suddenly wide-awake friend and fellow doctor.

"What's the matter, Hawk?" he asked him with a yawn. His question unanswered he wearily got up and prodded his pal.

Hawkeye's head whipped round, his eyes wide and his frown prevalent. "Beej?" he whispered.

"Yeah, Hawkeye?" came the tired reply and the other doctor crouched confused in front of him.

"Did you see that nurse today in OR?" Pierce asked anxiously, his fingers gripping the itchy army sheets.

"Oh Hawk! If that's what this is about then I'm going to bed!" BJ declared drunk with sleep deprivation. "No BJ, listen!" Hawkeye urged his friend grabbing onto his arm to stop him from leaving.

"What?" BJ turned his rapidly sharpening focus back onto Hawkeye, intrigued by his urgent tone.

"It's a couple of degrees above boiling, correct?" the other man asked him tentatively.

"More than a couple!" BJ joked, then he frowned. "Why?"

"Well, why would anyone be wearing long sleeves? Especially in the OR - the hottest place on the whole compound!" Hawkeye asked him, worriedly.

BJ thought for a minute then answered: "They wouldn't. Unless..." he trailed off.

"Unless they had something to hide." Hawkeye finished for him.

"Exactly." BJ agreed, his concerned gaze meeting his friend's equally anxious one.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day dawned even hotter and muggier than the previous one.

Awakened eventually by the call of food - or whatever passed for it here - the pair rose sleepily and trotted out into the day.

Everyone was wearing as little clothing as possible, but Hawkeye didn't waste a second on wolf-whistles as he marched to the Mess tent with a dozy BJ on his six.

As he reached the slightly shaded interior, greeted by the cold food (that normally was barely hot anyway) and sweaty tired bored faces of his comrades.

But his eyes skipped over them, searching for one nurse who stood out from the rest; but he couldn't see anyone wearing longs sleeves, in fact the whole tent was a tangle of sweating forearms. So he sought out the Head Nurse instead.

Finally locating his long-time colleague, Hawkeye made his way through the jumble of bodies with practiced ease; plonking himself down with only a glass of water he had grabbed on his way, Beej slipping in beside him.

Across the table from the duo, a tired Margaret looked up from her study of the table to stare confused at the two doctors.

"Margaret." BJ greeted her with a sleepy grin.

"We need to talk to you." Hawkeye butted in after he finished rolling his eyes at BJ's salutations. As the Major raised one eyebrow, he added "It's about one of your nurses."

"Oh, Hawkeye!" Margaret answered irritated, "For the last time, I am not finding out which of my nurses might actually have low enough standards to go out with you!" Her shout was muted, for privacy in the chaos and at least partially out of tiredness.

"That's not what this is about." Beej told her with a small smile at the reputation of his friend. "If you're finished here could we interest you in a drink?"

"It's not even afternoon!" Margaret protested, then her mock glare faded and she stood up with a grin: "Shall we?"

The boys got up too and led the way back to the Swamp - Hawkeye quiet as he mused on the assumptions his friends had made, both this morning with Margaret and last night with BJ... Then they reached the tent and his attention switched to the matter at hand.

Striding in, he quickly poured a drink and handed it to their guest (rapidly pouring his own soon after, kindly leaving Beej to sort himself).

He sat on his bunk, BJ threw himself down on his and Margaret perched on a chair in the middle.

After a moment's silence, she asked: "So what is this about then?"

She directed the question at the married man, with only a sidelong glance at Hawkeye - but it was he who answered.

"Yesterday, in the OR, one of your nurses was wearing long sleeves." he stated, trying his best to be calm and reasonable.

"Yes, okay." she replied, a little confused.

"Think about it Margaret." Hawkeye urged, "Why, in this heat, would anyone be wearing long sleeves? I mean, look at us!" He gestured to the three of them, in the barest of shirts and sweating buckets anyway.

"And the OR is worse as well." BJ pointed out.

The Head nurse mused over this but wasn't entirely sure what their point was. "So?" she prompted eventually, puzzled and frowning with growing concern.

"So what has she got to hide?"

"Do you even know which nurse it was?" Margaret challenged.

"No." Hawkeye admitted, shaking his head; the surgeon slumped back, defeated and exhausted still.

"Well, the matter of what to do next is simple." The practical Major declared. "We wait. The next OR session: we keep an eye out. Maybe this was some strange one off - like they didn't have any clean short sleeves or something..." she reasoned.

"Even then, you would roll them up." Beej murmured sombrely. At the sharp stares of the other two, he wisely shut his trap.

"So its settled," Margaret continued, with an air of confidence. "We just keep our eyes peeled, and when we know more -"

"Like who it is." Hawk butted in - sheepishly grinning when she glared at him for the interruption.

"We can discuss things then." The blonde concluded finally.

As both boys nodded she stood up, finished her martini with a small gagging cough and left - pointedly saying she had work to do.

With the groaning sigh of those who really don't want to do anything more than sleep, the duo eventually rose and headed out into the sweltering day for their rounds and mountains of paperwork.


	4. Chapter 4

In the end, it _only_ took two paranoid hours to locate the mystery nurse with the long sleeves...

As BJ and Hawkeye and Margaret patrolled the camp, with 'dinner' ( _supposedly_ ) and Post-Op duties giving their anxious wanderings purpose; they failed to find a single nurse, or at least one willing to go out with Hawkeye - they also failed to find any nurse wearing long sleeves, in fact the huge amount of almost scantily clad women was what had so distracted the 'ladies man' of the trio.

Or so it seemed to Hunnicutt - but deep inside his best friend's head the focus was not on the smiling or frowning women in front of him, but on that one seemingly indiscernible nurse who was apparently so difficult to find.

"Maybe it _was_ a fluke or something." BJ muttered eventually, after the latest posse of nurses had ceased teasing Hawk and left them be.

But when Hawkeye looked at him, their matching disbelieving gazes met and both of them shook their heads. Hawkeye sighed exasperatedly, then starting walking again; leaving Beej behind with his long strides.

"I've gotta get to Post-Op." he called over his shoulder, sensing rather than seeing BJ's raised eyebrow at the surgeon actually remembering the rota.

Grinning ever so slightly to himself Captain Pierce strode for the central building, passing Radar and muttering a greeting before proceeding to the ward.

As he paused in the doorway, assessing the boys that had been open on their blood-soaked tables only hours before, out of the morning's habit his eyes drifted to the wrists of the nurse on duty. They were covered.

Hawk's eyes locked onto those woollen-covered forearms and stopped dead; then he bolted - swiftly spinning around and almost running from the room, off to find Beej and Margaret.

He didn't see the way a pair of pale green eyes lifted from a clipboard to follow his hasty exit, nor the way the face they rested in frowned as he fled.


	5. Chapter 5

BJ had also found his way back to Margaret, and the pair were loitering in Radar's office as the Head Nurse finished off some paperwork - the company clerk in question having scarpered under her stare. By chance they were still there when Hawkeye came pounding through the doors to Post-Op, almost crashing into them and sending several stacks of paper flying.

"Margaret!" he cried, then quieter in a whisper: "I found her, she's on duty in Post-Op _right_ now." He gesticulated wildly to the not-exactly-sound-proof doors behind him and BJ's eyes gazed at them so intently he could have sworn he could see through them as if they were glass. Margaret on the other hand spun quickly to the settling scattered sheets and scrabbled about for a moment, drawing the attention of the puzzled surgeons.

Then she stood hurriedly, a single page clutched fiercely in her hand. Wordlessly she spread it out on the desk and the trio crowded round as she scanned the rota printed on it for that hour's Post-Op nurse.

"McPhee. Emily McPhee." she murmured, moving away from the desk to peek through the doors into Post-Op. Her sharp eyes spotting the long sleeves and the face to the name. "It's definitely her."

Hawk and BJ let out a breath they hadn't known they were holding, and Margaret turned hesitantly back towards them with an anxious frown.

"So, what do we do now?" Beej wondered quietly aloud. "We know who it is, and that it seems not to have been a onetime thing..."

"Margaret?" Hawkeye prompted, and the nurse looked at him in confusion. "What's she like? I don't think I've ever had much interaction with her before. Is she new?"

"She's not exactly new, been here a couple of weeks now. But I can't say I've spoken with her much - not had to reprimand her, doesn't really go out like some of the others do, no inappropriate behaviour; just nothing..." she trailed off, words failing her, then took a breath and added: "Her record is good, excellent even. I- " She stopped, her mouth snapping shut as she placed one hand on her forehead, a look of worry mixed with guilt flashing across her face.

"The weather only turned around four days ago, it'd been bitter for weeks up until then." BJ pointed out, gently resting a hand on Margaret's shoulder as they leaned against Radar's desk while Hawkeye paced within the confines of the office. 

Suddenly, Margaret stood straight and shook off BJ's comforting hand; a faintly determined look in her eyes.

"I've just thought - I want to go and check something. I have a hunch..." The boys nodded and she hurriedly left.

The doctors looked at each other and Pierce sighed to cover his nervousness: "Alright then. I guess I'd better actually start my shift in Post-Op."

He shifted on his feet and stared at the ominous door.

"Don't scare her Hawk. Just act normal for goodness sake." Hunnicutt cautioned him.

With a wordless nod and a parting sarcastic wave, Hawkeye re-entered the Post-Op ward with a suspiciously fake grin on his tired face.


	6. Chapter 6

Unbeknownst to the trio of officers, one nurse was overly aware of their discussion - mainly because she was not, in fact, an idiot...

So when Doctor Pierce returned to Post-Op after his hasty and entirely indiscreet departure, Nurse McPhee carefully avoided meeting his gaze.

But still she watched him.

She watched him watch her.

It was like the pair of them were playing a complex game - only she was a far superior player, she'd had the practice you see.

After the 50th time when the surgeon glanced at her arms (and Emily reflexively checked her sleeves with a level of subterfuge seemingly incomprehensible to the surgeon) she was so frustrated that she threw down her clipboard and turned to face the dark-haired man.

Her fierce stare pinned him to the spot and he froze like a deer, she could almost see the smoke coming from his ears as he frantically thought up an excuse for the question they both knew was coming.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" she hissed, for the sake of the patients' dozing keeping her voice low.

"I don't." The Captain claimed. Emily resisted the urge to roll her eyes; she had graciously given the guy a full minute to come up with a reasonable excuse they could both fall behind and this was all he got!

"Well, quit it!" she ordered him; the authority of her gender out-ranking his bars. The man flushed - well, even more, it was _very_ hot in Korea.

She left him stood there awkwardly, mouth half-heartedly gaping like a fish (although this may have been more to do with the relative temperature in the ward than any of her sharp words), and continued with her work.

Less than ten minutes later, Dr Hunnicutt poked his head into Post-Op and whispered loudly: "Hawk!" - gesturing for his pal to come with him, which he did shortly in hurried strides. This time Emily did not refrain from a satisfying eye-roll at their unsubtlety.

Inching closer to the door, firmly ignoring the rising fear in her stomach, she listened carefully - quickly picking out the two captains' voices as well as the distinctive pitch of the major. Gulping, and unable to make out any words from their hushed conversing, she moved guiltily away from the splintering doors and attended to one of the patients.

She was halfway through changing one of the soldier's bandages when one of them stormed back into the ward: BJ this time.

With a frighteningly stern glance over his shoulder, he stopped by the bed where she was working and spoke softly: "McPhee, when you are finished here please could you step outside for a few minutes."

Hiding the way her hands shook (though she suspected not very well) Emily replied, as calmly as she could: "Of course, Captain. But who will cover here?"

"Don't worry about that - we'll sort it out." he dismissed her concerns with only a small frown gracing his features, adding firmly: "As soon as you are done, if you don't mind."

After witnessing her confirming nod, he strode from the room - she watched him from over her shoulder as he went, noticing the way his fists clenched and unclenched with every step. "And what if I _do_ mind?" she whispered under her breath.

"What was that all about?" the tired and flaming soldier, to which she was attending, muttered with a slight smile as soon as the doors had clattered shut once again.

"I think I'm about to get my head bitten off, that's what." she replied to him, gaily - slipping back into 'Nurse mode' with ease. At his worried frown, she assured him: "Don't worry - I suspect I know exactly why... And I probably deserve it." She shrugged, then finished fastening the replacement bandage and stood, outwardly calm; packing up the detritus of her ministrations and putting them away with exaggerated fastidiousness, before taking a deep breath and heading for the doors at the far end of the room. A couple of the patients drowsily watched her go, a few kind smiles and thumbs-up materializing in her wake.

As she left Post-Op, the full heat of the Korean weather hit her like a bomb blast - not literally of course, just an exaggeration.

She quickly spotted that dangerous threesome lingering by a jeep a few yards away, BJ spotted her also and signalled for her to come over.

Walking steadily - not too speedily but not slacking either - she approached, and was greeted only with the words:

"We need to talk."

After a wordless nod in response, Emily followed the two Captains - as Margaret turned and went in a different direction, throwing a meaningful look at the men over her shoulder as she went - towards what seemed to be their shared tent, the famous Swamp.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sit down and talk.

"We need you to tell us what's going on with you." Hawkeye began, earnest and sincere, as the trio settled themselves around the tent - Emily took the chair indicated, while the men positioned themselves on Hawk's bunk (judging by the mess). The young nurse noted how they sat between herself and the door; and steeled herself for the interrogation ahead.

"Nothing's going on with me." She was aiming for light, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her.

"We're serious, McPhee." Hawkeye's tone was indeed more serious than perhaps she'd ever heard him - and judging from the sideways glance BJ threw at his friend, it was more serious than he'd ever heard him too. She pulled a face at their sincerity and the two doctors sighed in comical unison - Em would have laughed except there was nothing funny about any of this.

"Look, it's Emily - right?" BJ asked her, his voice calm - if a little nervous - and brimming with fatherly concern. It riled her: and then she felt guilty.

"Yes." she answered slowly, wondering what he would say next.

"Emily." He murmured, looking her intently in the eye and softly grasping one of her small pale hands in his large bear paws. "Please roll up your sleeve."

She yanked her hand away so hard she got whiplash and leapt to her feet. She stood there for a second staring at them, trying desperately to school her features and find words:

"W-what?" It was the best she could come up with in the current circumstances.

"Do it now please." The doctor-tone was creeping in now. She looked to Hawkeye, not quite sure what for, but he was sat back and clearly deferring to Beej in this. Damn him.

"No." she answered defiantly, even as all the cells in her body screamed _'run!'_. "You have no grounds on which to ask me. You have no grounds on which to force me." She pointed out, pushing false confidence into every syllable of her words. The pair exchanged glances as she stood there, feeling like a lion in a cage.

"In the last OR session, when everyone else was burning up and stripped down as much as they could, you were in there, in that boiling heat, wearing your army standard woollen fleece - with long sleeves." He spoke every word carefully, enunciating it deliberately before moving onto the next. Not quite as if he was speaking to a child, but close enough.

"So? That's my prerogative." She tried to act calm and collected. She wasn't sure it was working.

"Yes, it is. And we're not disputing that, but-" BJ glanced again at Pierce and sighed, finishing in a defeated tone with a helpless shrug: "We're doctors McPhee - can't you understand that?" So they weren't going to give up - at least not quite yet. Damn.

"And what the hell does being doctors have to do with me wearing long sleeves on one occasion." Em replied angrily, straining to ignore their pained expressions at her harsh tone and to keep her voice from rising to a shout, because that would only make the situation worse. And not to mention more public.

"Because it's not just one occasion." Hawkeye broke in. Finally. "The temperature has barely changed and here you are, still wearing a woollen sweater. Not even the same one!"

"And?" She questioned, raising one eyebrow and crossing her arms - the picture of defiance. That is if you ignored how she was shaking and that she had crossed her arms to keep them out of the doctors' range, but still... Defiant? Yeah sure. Scared witless? Hell yes.

"And." Hawkeye returned, pausing a second to grind his teeth. "Your major just had a chat with the other nurses, those that bunk with you, those that spend 80% of their time around you and you them; and can you guess what they said?" His voice rose in volume as he went on, his body rising with it until he was stood in front of her, above her actually, locking her with his gaze.

She backed away - she couldn't help it. She folded herself into her chair and hid her face with her hands, breathing harshly to hold back tears. This was so much worse than she had guessed. She had presumed it was the duo getting bored and maybe a little paranoid - not actually putting the (admittedly obvious when you went looking) pieces together. Oh God, what was she going to do!

After a few harsh breaths, she lifted her chin bravely and stared just past the two men watching her, not making eye contact but doing everything she could to exude strength. It wasn't really working.

A slight smile crept onto her lips as she watched BJ place a hand on his brother's arm, placating and reigning in, and the pair studied her with doctor's eyes.

Then he spoke, much softer than Hawkeye had, even as he pulled the dark-haired man to sit once more: "She said that none of them could ever recall seeing you without long sleeves. Not when in bed, not changing, not showering - they have never seen you in anything but these long sleeved woollen army jumpers." At his gentle, almost sad, and cringingly sympathetic tone: she made her decision.

Frowning on reflex, she unknit her arms from her lap and threw them in the air - carefully, of course, she's not an idiot. Praying that no sign of her internal fragility showed, nor that her sleeves slipped, she responded dramatically - not to mention sarcastically: "Are you _kidding_? What exactly has the weather been recently - I only got here a few weeks ago and up until the other day the weather has been... Well, is your memory _so_ bad?"

"It's been cold as the arctic." Hawk answered sullenly.

"Precisely." she snapped waspishly. "And also, maybe I like my privacy! Unlike you gents always proving your masculinity, I happen to like not stripping down every five minutes. And again, it's been dangerous to even do so up until about a day ago - I might have frozen! So how about you back the hell off and leave me to my business, huh?"

For a moment, they were both speechless and visibly stunned (in her triumph, she took the time to quickly tuck her arms safely away again) but then Hawkeye's silver tongue resumed functionality.

"Hey!" he cut back sharply, "Calm down. We were only worried about you, okay?"

Em bit her lip, the volcano abating as she recalled their worried expressions that still somewhat linger despite her profuse offence. Damnit.

"And I thank you for that." she replied, trying to exude honesty. "But I am a grown woman, and what I do is my own concern and no one else's - got it?" Her tone was icy, apparently too much so.

"Listen, Emily, you haven't been here long - maybe you don't know yet. But here, we look out for one another - sometimes, after days in the OR, wading in blood and bodies, each other is all we've got." At her jerky nod, Hawkeye continued. "We only mean to help. Honest." His earnestness finally convincing her: convincing her that they were not going to let this go. Great.

As his speech ended, the surgeon sat back and silence fell.

After a minute, tops, he prompted: "So, can you tell us?" A grin flickering about his lips.

"Hawk!" BJ scolded, sending mock-glare at his friend while Em just directed one raised eyebrow at the mischievous surgeon, who at least had the decency to look a tiny bit abashed...

So Emily sighed dramatically and leaned forward, beckoning them closer. They leaned towards her, faces bright and smiles itching to shine - she almost felt guilty.

"Hawkeye. BJ." She addressed each in turn. "You can keep a secret, right?"

"Oh yeah, definitely." Hawk replied instantly.

"For sure. You can trust us." BJ's answer was far less acerbic.

"Alright then, I guess I can tell you." She declared quietly, leaning further - until every muscle was straining so as to not to fall off the chair - the boys leaned in too, turning their ears ever so slightly towards her as she whispered: "It's private."

They both groaned, rolling their eyes in impressive synchronicity; making her smile.

"I'm being serious!" Hawk cried, frustration getting to him. Emily laughed, gaily but utterly joylessly. 

"So am I."

"Oh come on, Emily. Tell us." BJ begged.

"No way. Not a chance." She wanted to feel bad, but there was no room for feelings in this matter - it was what got her into trouble in the first place.

"Hey, we are allowed to be worried!" Beej told her, defensively.

"Worried!" She let out a bark of humourless laughter. "Why? Over a pair of long sleeves?"

"No!" Hawkeye shot back, then added solemnly as her laughter died abruptly. "For wearing long sleeves even on a day like today, when we know you're as overheated as everyone else, and apparently every other day you've ever spent here. Even the other nurses haven't seen you take off that sweater! Can't you at least do it for the doctors who are _worried about you_?!?"

"So eager to get me out of my clothes, Hawkeye? I had no idea." She bantered. Desperately using every trick in the book now; she was running out of pages.

As the surgeon threw his hands into the air and bit back a million retorts, some part of Em's brain began screaming for her to start apologising profusely and not stop for at least ten minutes. She ignored it. She didn't have a choice.

"Emily, listen!" Hunnicutt cut in, interrupting them both. The young nurse turned to stare steadily at him, he met he gaze steadfast. "What are you hiding?" He asked her plainly.

She blinked.

"It's... nothing." She answered firmly. Determined, but their sincerity demanded hesitancy.

"If it's nothing then you can show us." Hawkeye returned evenly, apparently having regained his temper. "Okay?"

They were using logic against her and their stubbornness was beginning to rival her own. Crap.

"No, it's not 'okay'." Emily retorted mockingly; her fire rekindled out of fear and desperation. "Now why don't you stop harassing me and try doing your jobs!" She shouted, stabbing a finger at each of them for good measure, then storming past them and out into the burning heat. A speedy exit her only viable option with the cards so stacked against her.

"Well that sure told us." Hawkeye remarked as the two doctors twisted to watch her stride across the compound and through the door to Radar's office. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Radar next!!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RADAR!

Nurse McPhee stormed across the M*A*SH 4077 camp with about as much restrained fury as a bull on a rampage. All other people - medical staff, soldiers and patients alike – stayed well clear of her, as advised by her helpful scowl and clenched fists.

She crossed the compound in roughly 60 seconds and threw open the ramshackle tin door to their tiny clerk’s office.

“Hi Walter.” She greeted the boy through gritted teeth even as the rackety door banged shut behind her, Radar jumped and turned from his piles of paperwork to face her.

“Hiya Em.” He responded with a smile and a cocked head as he observed her pacing up and down the confined space by his bed, blushing slightly as she paused to eye his teddy bear and flash him a friendly grin.

They were both unaware that the boys had got up and followed their escapee nurse - loitering in silence (guided by some doctor’s instinct) and listening intently to the discussion on the other side of that paper wall.

“What’s wrong?” The company clerk asked her, a little cautious of her anger but too curious to say silent.

“Hawkeye.”

“Hawkeye?” Radar replied, shocked and confused by such an answer.

“And BJ and Houlihan – all of them.” She ground out, resuming her pacing – outside the double act leaned in to catch their hushed conversing over the stamp of her army-issue boots.

“They know?” Radar’s radar struck again.

“I’m not sure – they… suspect?” Emily explained, mulling it over - she bit her lip and sat tentatively on the edge of the bed, Radar only observed her fondly and did not comment.

“Hey,” he murmured, getting up and perching next to her on the scratchy army sheets of his bunk. “It’ll be okay.” He reached up and gently placed a comforting hand on her shoulder; his thumb absently stroking the sleeve seam, he choked down a sigh and a million words as his eyes drifted down her long sleeves.

“How do you know?” she asked him desperately, twisting to face him with frustrated tears standing in her green eyes.

“I just know.” He shrugged, then added teasingly, “I’m Radar, remember?”

She let out a short laugh and some of the tension eased in them both as she did.

“Thanks Walter. You're a good friend.”

‘Walter?’ Hawkeye mouthed at BJ, to which the blonde just shrugged.

Inside the tin shed, Emily awkwardly hugged her friend before shuffling away from the young ‘soldier’ so that his arm fell between them.

O’Reilly’s smile faded. “Well, I try to be.” He joked.

McPhee only nodded and looked down at her lap. There was a pause, as the two doctors outside glanced at each other.

“And they try to be too.” Radar asserted after a minute’s internal debate. “They're just trying to do what they think is best.”

“But they don't know anything about it!” the nurse answered, her anger brimming again.

“And who’s fault is that?” Radar told her sharply, before sighing and continuing, “No, they don't. But they care about you…” She got up and walked a few paces from him and he watched her with tears collecting on his eyelids. “No Em, they really do. That's what it's like here - I've told you.” Helpless in the face of that irrefutable fact, she nodded – still avoiding his gaze. “Maybe you should give them a chance?”

“And end up locked away in a psych ward?” McPhee returned, incredulous.

“Do you trust me?”

“Walter-”

“Emily, do you trust me?”

She paused, and finally met his eyes. “Yes.” She admitted quietly, almost too quiet for the listening doctors to catch.

“Well I trust them - and you can as well, okay?”

She swallowed then murmured somewhat petulantly: “Okay.”

Radar sat back - his goal accomplished enough for now – and smiled at the nurse.

“Message received but not accepted, right?”

“Right.” She smiled too. “Sorry.”

He waved her off, too glad she had actually listened to him for once; and then silence fell comfortably over the small office. Emily leaned against a filing cabinet while Radar moved back to his desk to type up a final few reports for the evening.

“I should turn in - I've got an early Post-Op shift in the morning.” Em announced after some time – the surgeons turned spies exchanging harried looks, readying themselves to leg it. 

She crossed the office to place one hand on the splintering door and turned back to look at Radar with a grin – Walter watched her attentively even as he shuffles the reports. “Here’s hoping they wake up tomorrow and have forgotten all about it!” She joked quietly, her laughter evaporating as she took in his expression.

O’Reilly bit his lip and decided it was best not to respond; privately thinking that maybe some better understanding all around couldn’t go a miss, and that maybe his friend needed the support of her colleagues in this hell hole – especially those to which he so looked up to and with whom she had some tender but strengthening relationships already.

But he would not betray her or their friendship, no matter her bad habits and poor coping mechanisms – which admittedly were two a penny in the 4077.

Em sighed to herself, also debating whether to speak – as her fingers twitched and fiddled with her sleeve, Radar caught the movement and his expression hardened. 

“Well, good night Walter.”

“Goodnight Emily.”

They exchanged soft smiles regardless of the unspoken words and she strode off into the balmy early evening – somehow missing the huddled dim shadows of Hawk and BJ, who raced for the door before it had even had chance to slam shut once again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave a comment and tell me what you think - or even just to let me know you're reading this!
> 
> Have a nice day!


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